


Crash Into Me

by Graveyard



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Humor, M/M, Making Out, Prowl Smiling (May be disturbing for some viewers), Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graveyard/pseuds/Graveyard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz tries to make a move on Prowl but discovers that there's, ahem, a bit of a problem. Some technical difficulties require particularly creative solutions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash Into Me

**Author's Note:**

> Read on for humor, sappy robot kisses, and maybe just a touch of purple prose. I hope you enjoy!

The day their relationship moved to the next level was neither especially noteworthy nor profound. Really, it was a solar cycle just like any other. Prowl had gone off duty and somehow Jazz had convinced him to wind down at his place with some energon cubes and music. This was how the two of came to be reclined upon a couch in Jazz's expansive hab suite—perks of being an officer—with Prowl looking as relaxed as, well, Prowl ever got.

Jazz was telling some story which he assured Prowl was “hilarious, bound to make even you crack a smile” but it was not so much the words as the enthusiasm with which it was told that had the Prowl's mouth threatening to do the unthinkable. The corners of his lips twitched as he watched Jazz's exaggerated movements: the elaborate gestures, the dramatic expressions, and the wriggle of his hips as he grew too excited to sit still. Whatever thrilling conclusion the tale had reached was lost on Prowl, however, because it was the eager grin as Jazz turned to deliver the punchline that finally pushed Prowl over the edge. With a slight “fft” his mouth creased into a smile. He hastened to suppress the motion, but it was too late.

“That was it! I saw it! You just smiled.”

“A common reaction to your storytelling, I am sure,” Prowl dismissed with a twitch of his doorwings.

“Yeah, but not from _you._ ” Jazz grinned as he leaned in, savouring the sight of the strategist fighting hard to change his expression back to neutral. “The guys are never gonna believe me.”

“That's probably for the best,” Prowl said, his mask finally returning. “I don't want to lose the respect of my subordinates.”

“You're not gonna lose respect by smiling,” Jazz scoffed. He reached out and prodded Prowl's face. “C'mon, try it again! It looked good on you.” Prowl swatted at the intruding digits, optics darting away from Jazz's too-close frame.

“It's not in my programming.”

“I just saw it! Don't give me that!”

“That was merely a reaction. It was not intentional.”

“That's what smiles are, Prowler. I'm not grinning right now just because my pistons need the work out. You smile because you want to, because you feel like it.”

“Then,” his gaze shifted back to the relentless mech, “you admit the inherent flaw in asking me to smile?”

Jazz's face dropped, and he grumbled under his breath. Leave it to Prowl to guide him into a logic trap. He flopped back, throwing up his hands in a gesture of defeat. 

“I just thought it looked nice, is all. You could stand to smile more, you know?” Jazz tilted his head in Prowl's direction. “It won't hurt ya.”

“I think it did, actually,” Prowl confessed, raising a hand to massage his jawline. “There must be rust build-up.” He let out a thoughtful hum and his optics drifted to the ceiling. “I suppose I really don't smile enough, do I?”

“Hardly ever,” Jazz agreed. He noted the shift in Prowl's mood and found the current music inappropriate. With the ease of a bot intimately familiar with his playlist, Jazz flipped to a more suitable track. Slow, soft notes drifted from the player, an exact match for the subdued but steady pulses emanating from Prowl's EM field. Jazz instinctively leaned in, feeling it brush against his own and set his sensors alight. He tilted his head up and watched the uptight mech gradually unwind, each shift and pop of metal a tiny success in Jazz's world as Prowl relaxed into the soothing beat.

“I actually like this one,” he murmured, optics dimming as he let the sound wash over him.

“Melancholy, like you,” Jazz agreed. He had meant it as a tease, but the music was affecting him and it instead came out a little too thick with emotion. Prowl's head slowly turned, optics seeking Jazz's face to make sense of his words. Then the vocals reached his audials. The singer spun the tale of a love turned sour, at times her voice gently crooning as she lamented the past, at other times cracked and raw with heartbreak as she recalled how all had gone wrong. The music filled the room and drowned out the sounds of the outside world. Prowl's guard finally broke down as he submitted to the melody, all other thoughts, concerns, and reservations melting away at long last. Here it was just the two of them and the song. It swelled, crescendoed, rising to a peak, and then suddenly cut to near-silence, only a single drawn-out strum of the guitar and the singer's voice remained. Her last lines, whispered, but quavering with feeling, lingered in the silence that followed:

“ _Will I ever be happy again? Will I ever smile again?”_

Blue light filled the space between them as their optics searched each other's faces. Jazz tentatively closed the distance and Prowl let him, giving in to the moment. _So here it is,_ Jazz thought as he parted his lips, _finally, after all these vorns. No more shut downs, no more glares. He's finally gonna let me in._ He braced a hand on the back of the couch and then suddenly pushed forward, seeking Prowl. _Y'know, this is actually kind of romantic. Glad I waited for this moment. It was all worth the--_

CLUNK.

And then it was all muffed up. Curse the placement of his car hood.

The force of their colliding chests shoved Prowl off the couch and onto the floor. Jazz pitched forward, but managed to catch himself on the armrest. Swear words filled the air where moments ago there had only been a depressing love song.

“Spawn of a glitch!” Jazz gasped, leaning over to look at the mech sprawled unceremoniously on his hab suite floor. “Prowl! Are you alright?” Prowl grunted and delicately prodded the plating on his chest.

“I think I dented something. I'm getting damage alerts.” He hissed as his probing fingers found the breach. “Here. You cracked a headlight.” His brow creased in anger now that the shock had worn off, optics flashing with cold light. “What in the name of the pit did you do that for, anyway?” he snapped. “One minute we're listening to music and then suddenly you shove me onto the floor?” His anger got the better of him and he rose to his feet, towering over Jazz. “Was this meant to be some kind of laugh? One of your jokes? Because if you haven't noticed in all these vorns, _I don't have a sense of humor_.”

Wrong, it was all going wrong. Ruined, because of an overly-large chest.

“I didn't, I didn't mean--slaggit Prowl, I was just trying to kiss you. But then this stupid thing got in the way.” He jabbed a thumb at his ruined plating, streaks of Prowl's black paint marring the surface. “All I wanted,” his vocals glitched and he had to reset them before continuing, “all I wanted was to kiss you.” His expression became so dejected that Prowl felt his anger deflate at once.

“I, er, I apologize for my outburst. It was wrong of me to accuse—kiss me?” His processor finally registered the word. “Is that what you said?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He avoided Prowl's questioning optics as best he could.

“I'm not sure why you would. To make me smile?”

“Well, to make _me_ smile, but if it would make you happy too, all the better.” Jazz cocked his head at Prowl, systems that had just stopped racing now picking up speed again. “Would it? Make you smile, I mean?”

“I don't know,” Prowl confessed.

“Maybe we should try it and find out?” Jazz asked hopefully. Prowl lingered for a moment in silence, optics on the floor as he searched for an answer.

“I suppose we could,” he said after a time. His optics snapped up again. “But let's plan it out this time so there are no more mishaps. Frankly, at the speed with which you lunged at me I'm glad you hit my chest and not my face.”

“Er, right then. You're the strategist. Plan away!” Jazz flopped back against the couch as Prowl approached him. He felt his frame heat up when Prowl's fingertips ghosted over his hood. It was nice feeling the investigative fingers dance over his plating. His engine revved with appreciation, much to his embarrassment. Glancing up to gauge Prowl's reaction, he saw the mech lost deeply in his work, frowning as he puzzled out their situation. His mumbles were drowned out by Jazz's rumbling engine as he sifted through the details. Only a few phrases were loud enough to hear. 

“...making an approach from the front...impossible. Which leaves...perhaps the side...” Prowl shifted, and Jazz shivered as he felt Prowl's body slide against his own. “...no. Impractical. So then...” Prowl walked slowly around the couch muttering to himself, his hands drifting onto Jazz's shoulders. “Yes. Perhaps that.” He came to stand in front of Jazz once more and grasped the mech firmly by the shoulders. “Lean forward.” Jazz complied and Prowl guided him into position. Their necks creaked as they reached for each other, but-- “No, too much strain.” Prowl pulled back suddenly, disappointing Jazz. “I suppose that leaves only one option, then.” He looked appraisingly at the Special Ops agent, then nodded, processor made up. “Very well. Jazz, I need you to come and lie down on the floor here.”

“I—what?”

“This will work. It's the best way.”

“Alright, if you say so Prowler...” he eased himself off the couch and let Prowl steer him to the floor. The mech bent over him and Jazz's vents suddenly forgot how to function. His core temperature skyrocketed as Prowl guided him into position lying on his back. _What's going on?_ He wondered. _Are we going to--_ Then, suddenly, Prowl was gone. Jazz's vents kicked in abruptly, cooling him. _No, of course not,_ he chided himself. _Don't get carried away Jazz, my man. This is just a kiss. Keep your cool. But how are we even going to kiss like this? Whatever Prowl's got cooking is—oh._ Realization dawned as Prowl's face inched over his own. He looked suddenly, endearingly, nervous about all this. 

“I get it! We're gonna Spiderman it!” Jazz joked, trying to ease the tension somewhat. Prowl's face creased in confusion.

“I don't—”

“Of course you don't. Pop culture reference,” Jazz chuckled, feeling better now. Even if it did nothing for Prowl the joke helped calm his own nerves. “Now c'mere.” And with that he placed his hands on either side of Prowl's helm and guided his face down.

The kiss was long and satisfying. Vorns of build-up coupled with the confusing attempt of just a moment ago made this all the more worthwhile. Jazz was a good kisser, drawing the inexperienced Prowl in with a few flirtatious brushes. He followed this up with a long, drawn-out kiss that would have organic creatures gasping for oxygen long before it was finished. Not allowing their lips to separate for long, Jazz began working his mouth against Prowl's, stirring motion from the usually reserved officer. He pressed on, parting his lips and waiting for Prowl to follow suit before flicking his tongue out and sliding it seductively just past those open lips. He was rewarded with a shudder from the police bot, who pressed down harder on his mouth and let the questing tongue slip further inside. Jazz complied, exploring the warm space beyond while offlining his optics to fully enjoy the sensation. He found Prowl's tongue and coaxed it into dance, swirling and pressing and sliding against each other, and it was all so good that Jazz was only marginally surprised to hear Prowl give a muffed moan. Confidence soaring, he tried to go a step further and lure Prowl into his mouth. His tongue flicked and teased, drawing back a little more each time until Prowl was forced to slip his tongue out into the open air to follow. Jazz kept it there with soft brushes and hungry whines, not allowing it to retreat for a moment, until Prowl finally gave in and hesitantly pressed into Jazz's mouth. And then Jazz pulled out the secret weapon in his arsenal.

He began to suck on Prowl's tongue.

Prowl groaned as desire suddenly coursed through his body. The pressure on his tongue was gentle but solid. At first it was consistent, but just as he was getting used to it Jazz threw him off balance again by beginning to vary the firmness. Waves of pressure and release came one after another, unrelenting, and Prowl soon found himself making the most indecent noises into Jazz's mouth. Support from his arms threatened to give out as he began to tremble with a sudden wash of lust. The desire was so fierce and so abrupt that he began to feel alarmed at himself and wanted very much to pull away.

Sensing the shift in his partner's EM field, Jazz began to wind things down. He suckled gently on Prowl's tongue a moment longer before letting it slip away, and then fondly stroked Prowl's helm and the back of his neck to reassure him. The kissing became less passionate and more affectionate, decreasing in intensity until they were just soft, tender brushes on Prowl's lips. Finally he let his hands slide off Prowl to show that he was ready whenever the other bot wanted to pull away. Surprisingly Prowl did not do so immediately, enjoying the lingering touch on his tingling lips.

“You gonna stay there all cycle?” Jazz teased fondly, and Prowl shivered to feel the mech's lips move against his own over-sensitized ones. He tried to push himself up, but found that his limbs did not respond easily. With a grunt he instead rolled himself over, lying on his back to mirror Jazz's position. They were still at opposite angles, but their helms were next to each other, and so when Prowl looked over his vision was filled with the bright, pulsing glow emanating from Jazz's visor. _His spark must be flaring intensely,_ Prowl thought, and then wondered at the state of his own optics. He got his answer soon as Jazz chuckled and reached for him, running a thumb affectionately over his cheek.

“Settle down there, Prowler. You're gonna blind me with all that light you're giving off.” Prowl responded with a seldom heard—but now Jazz's favorite sound—“fft” as the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile.

“There it is,” Jazz grinned cheekily, changing the path of his rubbing to include a brief trace of Prowl's lips. “Guess it worked, huh?”

Prowl felt a rush of heat and he rolled over to hide his embarrassment, though the smile refused to leave his features.

“I suppose so.”

“We should do this more often,” Jazz ventured, and Prowl felt his spark surge at the suggestion. Could he do it? Could he face this mech professionally every day, knowing that later that night they would retreat to his quarters and become intimate with each other? Would he be able to separate the two worlds: that of daytime battles and nighttime pleasures? Could he—knowing that the Decepticons might even after dark be plotting the destruction of everything he stood for—allow himself to abandon all worries and give himself over to passion, an emotion he was unfamiliar with and frankly did not trust? And could Jazz?

Or worse, would he go on with his endless life acting as though today had never happened, looking at Jazz and pretending he didn't know what he tasted like?

“I think I could manage that,” he laboured. “Being with you.” And when the hand that had been formerly caressing his cheek drifted down his arm, and when he raised his own in response seeking the warmth and reassurance to be found there, and when they met in the middle and twined their fingers together as though they had meant to do this all along, and when for the first time in a long time he felt truly and honestly _happy..._

Well, he knew he had made the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> So how was it? This was actually the first Transformers fanfiction I ever wrote, though not the first I posted. I've been hanging onto this one and touching it up. With luck it is finally ready for the public eye. Um, a couple of comments: firstly, I'm not an experienced kiss writer, so hopefully that turned out okay. Secondly, if you want to know what song they were listening to, I'm sorry, I made it up. Thirdly, I hope I wrote the characters correctly. I think Prowl is usually a pretty calm and serious guy, but he does have a bit of a temper at times. Lastly, I wish with all my heart that I made you laugh, or at least crack a smile. That would make Jazz happy. :) Anyway, thanks for reading!


End file.
